Mama Who Bore Me
by Foibles and Fables
Summary: While spending time with her baby son, Meredith Grey vows to be different from her mother. Based on the song "Mama Who Bore Me" from Spring Awakening. Implied MerDer, takes place a few years in the future.


**First, I need to explain this series of stories. I challenged myself to write a Grey's fic for every song from the musical **_**Spring Awakening**_**. I was going to compile them in one large, multi-chaptered series of vignettes, but I figured that it would be easier for people to find what they liked if I posted them individually. This is my first venture into Meredith Land! It takes place sometime in the future, maybe a year or two. This also hints very **_**very**_** vaguely at a relationship other than MerDer…blink and you'll miss it.**

**Disclaimer: Grey's Anatomy is the property of Shonda Rhimes and ABC. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.**

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_Mama who bore me  
Mama who gave me  
no way to handle things  
who made me so sad_

Your eyes snap open, coming directly out of a deep and content sleep. Like your husband, sometimes you just know what is going to happen next. This is definitely one of those times.

As if on cue, you hear struggling and whimpering on the other side of the bedroom. The noises quickly culminate in a loud wail, one that pierces straight into your heart and brain. Your legs, as if magically compelled to move, swing automatically over the side of the bed. You don't have to worry about accidentally waking Derek, because you're in bed alone; with a quick glance at the clock, reading 1:53 AM, it registers that he's probably still in emergency surgery. You're secretly glad you're off-call tonight.

Without any urging, still stiff with sleep, you move to the mahogany crib against the opposite wall. The little baby lets out another cry. His tiny fists are curled into tight balls and his cheeks are flushed and tearstained.

"Oh, baby boy," you coo as you pull Mason Christopher Shepherd into your arms. The baby huddles against you, his little shuddering with sobs.

This is nothing out of the ordinary. It's a routine established over the three months since Mason's birth. It's about two in the morning, which is exactly the time of Mason's single night feeding. So, you know exactly what your son needs right now: six ounces of formula and a few minutes of loving attention.

Grabbing a blanket from Mason's changing table, you hold the still-sniffling baby against your shoulder and step out into the hallway. As soon as your feet hit the top step, Mason decides to wail quite loudly again. You cringe and gently rock him, pressing a comforting kiss against his ear.

Mason settles down considerably as you reach the kitchen, recognizing it as the place where mommy and daddy keep his food. He doesn't let you put him down. The instant you break contact, he screams and the tears begin again. You sigh and prepare his bottle single-handedly, thankful for your ambidexterity that's acquired from practicing surgery. It's an indispensable skill when caring for an infant. You kiss his forehead and carry him and the perfect-temperature bottle into the living room.

As you sit down on the rocking chair (the first thing Derek bought when you told him that you were pregnant) and cradle him in his feeding position, his eyes open wide and he kicks his small-but-powerful legs.

"That's right, little guy, time to eat." You giggle softly at his enthusiasm. You offer Mason the bottle, and he latches onto the nipple and begins to suck hungrily. "Wow, Mase, you're a hungry boy," you comment, smiling warmly as his tiny hands come to rest on top of yours on the bottle.

Sometimes, during these late-night feedings, you turn on the television and indulge in some crappy shows while Mason eats. Most nights, though, you just like to watch him, to take in all of him. You still sometimes wonder how he's here, or where he came from – even though you're a doctor and those are dumb questions for a doctor. This amazing little creature, he's your world and Derek's world.

You're amazed at what a perfect combination of you and Derek that Mason is. He has his father's ears and blue-green eyes, surrounded by long and dark eyelashes. His hair was the color of yours when he was born, but, once he started losing his newborn hair, it began to grow back just like Derek's: very dark with a thick curl at the ends. His lips, nose, and facial structure are most definitely yours, though. Your boy is wonderful.

He pauses and looks up at you, dark eyebrows knitted in an expression of concentration. It's as if he can hear your thoughts. You laugh heartily and smooth his hair.

He's a relatively slow eater, so you have plenty of time to think while you're feeding him. Most times, like right now, your mind wanders to your mother. You wonder if she woke up in the middle of the night to feed, change, or cuddle you, or if she just made your father do it all of the time. You wonder if she made time to play with you and give you attention, like you and Derek, in spite of your overwhelmingly hectic schedules, make more than enough time for Mason.

You wonder if when you were sick, she was completely and utterly sympathetic (like you were when Mason had a small bug two weeks ago) or if she just treated you like you were one of her patients.

When you consider all of those things, and imagine that the answer to each is _no_, you realize that good parenting skills probably aren't genetic. No matter how terrified you were to have a child, fearing that you'd end up just like your mother, you're doing a pretty damn good job of breaking the cycle so far.

You remember things from when you were older, around three years old. You were completely cared for. You were given attention. Your mother encouraged good behavior. She rewarded and praised you when you did well in school, and chastised you when you didn't. She wasn't always around, but, even at a young age, you understood that that letdown came with her job. She tried to be as sympathetic as she was capable of being when your father left.

Deep down, you know that she loved you underneath it all. She was your mother. Still, you feel like there was always something missing, something more that your mother could have given.

As you look down at your beautiful son, your Mason Christopher, his sea-colored eyes half-lidded as he nears the end of his bottle, you make a solemn vow to yourself and him. Throughout all of his life, you're going to continue to break that cycle.

As a baby, he's always going to have someone familiar to take care of him and love him. You, Derek, Aunt Lexie, Cristina, Dirty Uncle Mark (more of an endearing nickname than anything), Izzie, Alex, or any other member of your "family" will always be with him. He'll experience constant love and support, something you feel like you needed more of.

You'll give him everything you wished you'd had. You're going to be supportive of everything he decides to do. Even though your fellowship is coming up soon, you'll be at every single little league game, spelling bee, band concert, dance recital, or whatever else he chooses to be involved in.

Most importantly, you'll accept him and love him fully for what he is. You'll never push him to "be extraordinary" or admonish him for not.

Mason is the symbol of your new life. He's the embodiment of your change from a nervous, unsure, dark and twisty surgical intern with a world-class neurosurgeon on-again off-again boyfriend to a truly happy and successful surgical resident with a world-class neurosurgeon husband. Every time you look at him, you're filled with this feeling of utter wonder, filled with love for your husband and love for your unconventional family. Even if he's not a genius or a star athlete or a concert pianist, simply because of the love you have for him (and the love he gives back), he'll always be extraordinary to you.

Your love for Mason won't be a mere given fact. It will be something that he can see and feel.

Mason detaches from his bottle with a sigh, all finished. You wipe his mouth and burp him; he doesn't spit up this time, thank heavens. As you cuddle him close to you, you glance at the clock, which now reads 2:17. You have to be at the hospital in just a few hours. Coming off of maternity leave has been hard, but Mason's completely and totally worth it.

You stroke his tiny cheek with your thumb, when, suddenly, he smiles. It's a new occurrence that started about a week and a half ago. It makes Derek happier than you've ever seen him, and causes Lexie to squeal and run for the nearest camera. It fills you with this indescribable feeling, some mixture of unconditional love, awe, faith, and hope. Whatever it is, it's like nothing you've ever felt before.

You're still terrified that you're going to do something to ruin him forever. You still haven't completely grown into your own as a mother.

But, as Mason looks up at you with that breathtaking toothless grin, that calming feeling returns.

You believe that his future will be better than your past. You believe in the change you can make, the love you can give, and yourself.


End file.
